


An Artists Plight

by SymphonicHorrors



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:14:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29923608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SymphonicHorrors/pseuds/SymphonicHorrors
Summary: He never meant for them to get hurt! Never meant for it to get so out of hand! And yet, here he was trying to decipher the words in his head so he can demand that his friends be returned to him. that this wasn't what he wanted. it wasn't... it wasn't what he asked for, not this.





	An Artists Plight

Rikki was a boy of seventeen. He was a talented boy. His art sat works of a true artist. this didn't mean anything to him, However. for every day a boy named Thomas would come and steal them, ruin them. what should have been this sweet boy's livelihood became his curse. every time he saw what he created he would smile as if he were staring at his newborn child, and every day this boy would be forced to watch as they were torn and soaked and ruined. Rikki held in his tears and anger as his latest treasures were burned before his eyes. as he was released he fell to his knees and watched the burning bundle of paper. Thomas and the rest of the students left giggling and they headed for home. he felt sick. too sick to move.

"I could make them stop you know. could make it all stop, make that silly little boy wish his mommy had never birthed him."

Rikki grabbed the charred papers and spun around. seeing nothing in the empty room he stood and ran. all the way home he could hear that voice, its offer, and it scared him. true he hated Thomas but, he didn't want to hurt him! he. he didn't. sliding through the door to his home he waved at his mother as he ran by and to his room. he sat on his bed paging through what was left of his drawings. smiling he almost squealed in delight as he found one near the bottom that hadn't burned. it was a man bent over a bench carving. it had been his favorite of today and it had lived! his heart sank as he noticed half the man had burned. he could still hear that voice. maybe Thomas deserved it. what had he done to deserve being attacked every day!

"I really could stop him. make it nice and slow. make him feel like you do. could even make him feel worse!"

Rikki froze as hands landed on his shoulder.

" you don't have to say anything just do me two favors, finish that drawing, and don't look at me until it's finished. give me these and ill end that boy. teach him not to touch you."

Rikki moved from his bed to his desk and pulled out his sketch pad. he could hear a chuckling as he slowly copied the picture over and finished it redrawing what was burnt and adding details. he couldn't stop. the more he drew the more he needed to draw. his mother stepped in to bring him down to dinner just as he brought himself to put his pencil down. avoiding a look at his bed he pulled his door closed.

"as you wish." the words were so painfully loud in his head that he faulters for the smallest of moments as the door click closed behind him but he bites it down in favor of following his mother to dinner. it couldn't be that bad, right? What's a bad night for him when it's a bad life for rik...

Rikki yawned as he trotted upstairs. as he changed his gaze caught something in the mirror. a black handprint stained his shoulder. his mouth fell open as his fingers trailed over the marks. A long quiet moment of staring passes as fear starts to twirl and dance within him. he had done nothing wrong right? simply redrawn an image that had been damaged by someone else. his feet feel heavy as he lets himself actually take in his bedroom as though he'd never seen it before this very moment. the once quiet comfort it held for him had been wiped away and it was starting to dig at his very being. The teen near lept out of his skin when his window slammed open sending the papers off his desk scattering them to his feet. charred and battered as he looks down over them. it hurt, his heart hurt.his hands ball at the hem of his shirt as he forces himself ta take a breath and soothe his nagging nerves so he can gather the pages and tuck them away somewhere safe. 

there a moment however where he's left frozen where he stands. hand having fallen to the sketchbook he'd drawn in not an hour ago as he just, stares. the image is jagged and broken as though it had been poorly printed. the one pretty little desk he'd drawn was gnarled and old, the man that once leaned against it was gone altogether. leaving behind unfinished lines and blank space. then his heart falls what he would swear was out of him altogether. he's shaking, big green eyes starting to water as he runs a finger over the trinket perched within his drawing. the once seemingly blank little puppet he'd drawn now rested against a wall he didn't remember detailing. it now sported hair, glasses, pajamas he'd never even seen before. with a panicked hand, he slams the book shut. shoving it away as he balls himself in his bed. he's just seeing things because he's upset. that's it. he refuses to believe it to be anything more.


End file.
